We Play the Fool
by Miko Akako
Summary: With Sam and Finn unavailable, Quinn takes a leaf out of Santana's book and approaches Dave. Their 'relationship' continues through college. On their wedding night, Quinn and Dave do something they can't take back. Quave friendship/beard.


**Story**: We Play the Fool  
><strong>Author<strong>: MikoAkako  
><strong>Beta<strong>: None  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: dub-con sex  
><strong>Word count<strong>: 5,118  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own anything you recognize.  
><strong>Summary<strong>: With Sam and Finn unavailable, Quinn takes a leaf out of Santana's book and approaches Dave. Their 'relationship' continues through college. On their wedding night, Quinn and Dave do something they can't take back. Future!fic Dub-Con

A/N: This is in response to a prompt on the angst meme at lj. Prompt is posted at the bottom.

* * *

><p>He doesn't know how they got here. She's sitting on the floor in the corner; her dry eyes red and splotches of blue and purple coloring her arms and hips from where his hands gripped her. Every so often she lets out a whimper that's quickly stifled with a hand to her lips. She hasn't put anything on to hide her body, relying on her tucked knees and the hands hugging them in close to protect her from any eyes, if she even cares at all anymore.<p>

His position mirrors her, pressed against the headboard as far away from her as he can get; as far away from the reminder of what he did as he can get. There are still tears in his eyes, and there are no bruises on his body. A sheet is pulled haphazardously across his lap like a restraint. God only knows that he needs it. God and the angel lying broken on the floor.

As much as he wants not to know how they got here, he can remember every detail in crystal clarity even through the pounding in his head. It's what came before the steady throb that got them to this moment in time, but there is so much more than one stupid night that leads to this mistake, he knows. Sitting there in a silence he neither wants nor knows how to break, he forces himself to remember.

xxxx

No one was surprised when they started dating a month into senior year. And why should they? Santana could be seen glued to Brittany – by the hand or the mouth, the message was clear – and Finn and Rachel were so deep in their own world there was no chance Quinn could get him back if she even wanted to. Which, by the insistence in her voice and eyes when she cornered Dave after football practice, she didn't.

"We need each other, Dave," She said, forgoing any greeting as she grabbed his arm and pulled him to the sidelines while the rest of the team was grabbing one last drink before heading back to the locker room.

"What are you talking about, Fabrey?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. Her eyes flashed as a cruel grin settled on her face.

"You need to regain your cred after the joke at prom, which you can do by dating the head Cheerio," Once again Quinn had been given her old title. It had taken surprisingly little to convince Coach Sylvester to trust her again – a promise to quit the New Directions and focus exclusively on Cheerio's.

"And you get?"

"Obviously Santana was on to something by dating you. She didn't have the support of the school that I do. Together we can be the new It couple of McKinley. We'll get Prom King and Queen and then go our separate ways after graduation." Her smile softened as she leaned in to him.

"What's the catch?" Quinn had never spoken to him at all in the previous three years. It hadn't even been a matter of geography – as a football player he and the Cheerio's practiced after school almost every day together during the fall season.

"I'm not going to make the same mistake I did sophomore year," She said. "No sex in any form. I don't care who else you fuck, as long as you're the perfect boyfriend in public and no one suspects anything is wrong."

Dave pretended to think about it. "Deal."

It was the perfect cover. Quinn was beautiful. She could have almost any guy in the school so she wouldn't waste her time with someone who couldn't give her everything in a relationship. No one had to know that neither of them was anything but completely in love.

Only Kurt and his perfect little boyfriend would know anything, but neither of them would tell; they were too honorable. He could deal with the disappointed stares Kurt would send at him whenever they crossed paths. While some people were happy to be out of the closet, Dave had no desire to come out any time soon. He couldn't deal with the looks that would come along with the truth.

The looks that were given when he walked into school the next morning, hand in hand with the head Cheerio were the good kind. There was respect and fear and longing – he was on top of the world. The high he got from being the object of envy was better than 'accepting himself for who he was' or whatever other shit Hummel was spouting. He didn't need to proclaim the truth to the world when it was a truth he didn't even want anyhow. And maybe if he pretended long enough, everything really would be normal.

xxxx

She still remembers the looks, so many years later. The adoration and envy. But those looks are replaced by the one of fear shining from his eyes, accusing her and begging for forgiveness at the same time. She wants to move, but to do so would expose her body to him and she can't do that yet. She tells herself she'll move in a moment, but each moment drags on.

She bears the physical evidence of their marriage, but she knows she's inflicted just as many bruises on his soul. In some sick, twisted part of her mind she thinks they deserve the pain they're feeling. It's the payback for being on the top of the world for so long. She should have known something so wonderful could only last for so long.

And now their perfect illusion has come crashing down around them. The broken wine bottle lying shattered on the floor served as a reminder of her stupidity. Somewhere between the bed and the corner she must have stepped on glass because she can see bloody footprints leading to her position. She idly wonders if they'll have to pay extra for the mess.

xxxx

"Senior Prom King is…" Figgins took a breath to drag out the suspense. Quinn was poised on the girl's half of the stage, leaning ever so slightly towards the center. "David Karofsky." The other candidates clapped, good naturedly, as Dave walked to the center and bent down so he could be crowned.

Quinn gripped her left wrist in her right hand, ignoring the pain of her manicured nails biting into her skin. Dave had won last year, but his running mate hadn't. She couldn't bear the humiliation of losing a second year. "Quinn Fabrey!" She shook her head, taking Dave's outstretched hand and letting him lead her to Figgins and the crown. She leaned on him as if the world was falling out from under her and he held her up.

She smiled, thanking everyone for their votes and glad she'd prepared a brief speech because without the words floating in her head, she never would have been able to form a sound. She needed Dave's support to get down from the stage, and the grip of his hands strong on her waist comforted her when they started dancing.

She loved the spotlight, loved the attention of everyone on her as she and Dave danced in the center of the room. Dave spun her out, a wild smile on his face matched by the one on hers. For the first time all year she let herself laugh and smile without worrying what everyone was thinking. She had everything she wanted.

After the dance, she tugged at her corsage, looking anywhere in the car but at the boy – man – beside her. He hadn't said much to her all night, and she was too happy to care. But as the night drug on, she found herself genuinely worried about what was bothering him. She tried to think of something else – their deal was a relationship sans feelings, but after almost an entire year pretending to date, their lie may have developed into something more substantial.

"You haven't said a word all night," She said, falling into her normal bitchy tone. A corner of his mouth quirked up, and she knew she'd been caught. Somewhere down the line he'd learned to read her better than anyone else in her life. She just wished she could read him as well.

"Congratulations on winning Queen," He said finally. "I guess this is it, then?"

She blinked. Graduation was less than a month away, and their deal lasted until then. If they broke up before, everyone would know their entire relationship was a lie. "Graduation, remember?"

"I got in to OSU," He blurted. She hadn't even known he'd applied. It was where she was going to school. She would get a nice, boring degree in something like English Lit or Business before moving back to Lima and the rest of her stint in purgatory. Dave was supposed to leave the state – get a hockey or football scholarship and vanish off her radar.

"What happened to NYU?" She asked. Last she'd heard he couldn't stop talking about their offer. She could have sworn he already accepted it.

"It wasn't quite a full ride. OSU offered a full ride plus all expenses guaranteed for four years."

"Well, I guess we'll be at the same school. It doesn't change anything, though. Come graduation you're officially off the hook." She glanced over at him under her lashes, trying to gauge his reaction. Aside from a curt nod, he gave her nothing. "Unless you don't want it to end?"

"Same arrangement?" He asked.

"Yes."

xxxx

He has to move. He tells his limbs to respond but they're like stones attached to his body. Funny, he thinks, because they were so agile last night, liberal in slaps and scratches and securing limbs to the bed. He shudders, afraid to close his eyes because he knows what he will see when he does.

"Quinn…" His voice is hoarse; strange because he hardly made a sound all night so his vocal chords aren't raw from yelling. He clears his throat, trying to get out the words he's so desperate to say. "Quinn…I…"

"Please," She pleads her voice fresh as ever, lacking the usual bitterness that used to leave a bad taste in his mouth but now is just familiar and comfortable. The absence of it is like a vice grip in his chest, ripping his heart out and leaving him empty.

"I'm sorry, Q," He said. "Please… I'm sorry." He wants to say more, but he can't. The words are ash on his tongue and words can't possible fix what he broke last night. So he repeats those words again, over and over, like a mantra to ward off evil.

"How did it get so far?"

xxxx

Their arrangement was too good for Dave to leave. He was surprised to find he liked Quinn. Not romantically, though he spent more hours than he cared to admit trying to find those feelings, but she was one of his closest friends. They didn't talk much, but it was impossible not to get to know someone you spent most of the day with for a year.

They were supposed to spend the summer apart. Dave got a job at the local supermarket and Quinn's mom paid for her to travel through Europe for the two months of vacation before school started. The first time Dave's phone rang was two days after Quinn left, and he was a little surprised but he answered it quickly. "Hey."

"Did I leave my camera at your house?" She asked, not bothering with a greeting. He didn't expect her to – they were well past that point by now.

"Uh…hang on a sec," He said, getting up from his desk chair. "How's Spain?"

"Beautiful," She said. "I'm going to have a perfect tan by the time I get back to the states. How's your job?"

"Well it's not gonna be my career or anything, but I'll be able to get that laptop by the time school starts up." He went downstairs to the family computer where Quinn had downloaded the pictures of prom for him with her camera. "And you don't need a tan. You're already the prettiest girl in Ohio."

"Sweet, Dave," She said. "So is my camera there?"

"Hmm…I don't see it," He cleared off some of the papers, ignoring the past due bills his dad usually tried to hide from him. A flash of red showed and he picked up the camera. "Nevermind. Here it is."

"Shit," She said, earning a chuckle from Dave. The first time she cursed in front of him, he'd been surprised and she had been mortified. It was then that he realized that maybe he wasn't the only person who had to work so hard to project an image for everyone. The thought was comforting, and eventually they both started to relax around each other. She didn't pretend to be the perfect catholic school girl and he let go of the tough-guy façade.

"I can send it overnight if you give me an address." He got out a pen, scribbling what she told him and balancing the phone on his shoulder. "Anything else I should send?"

"Actually…" By the time they hung up Dave had a list of things she'd forgotten at her house for him to go pick up. He teased her good-naturedly, asking what she _did _remember to bring. If she'd been there she would have given him the cold shoulder but over the phone she was reduced to telling him to fuck himself.

"Go enjoy the sun. I'm on my way to your house than the post office." They hung up, making not promises to talk the next day.

So when Dave's phone rang at the same time a week, he was surprised but figured he'd forgotten something. The calls continued, one or two a week for the first month and then every day for the second. Most of the time she called, but a few times he beat her to it, especially when he had a particularly good or bad day.

He was there to pick her up at the airport, smiling as she stepped through the walkway and scanned the crowd for him. When she saw him, she made a show of pretending she hadn't been looking for him, quickly controlling the smile that appeared, replacing it with a smirk. But he'd seen enough to know he was glad to see her.

xxxx

She doesn't know who spoke the words, but she felt warm tears slide down her face. She sniffed, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. She knew the answer to the question, but her neck hurts from the hand shaped bruise spreading around her throat. She can talk, but she thinks maybe if she stays quiet time will reverse.

Her tear filled eyes flicker to the clock lying upside down on the floor, taking in the flashing 12:00 before moving her gaze up to Dave. His gaze is no longer focused on her, still pleading for forgiveness but gazing at the ceiling or towards heaven. She's been sending up her own prayers, hoping for the words to fix this mess to appear before her.

"I don't know," She says finally. They aren't the words she wants to say. She wants to confess everything. She wants to close the distance between them and hold him, take his hands in hers to stop their frantic dance, twisting in the sheets as if it's the only thing keeping him sane. But she still can't move. The spell place on them, the spell that they placed on themselves, hasn't been broken yet.

xxxx

They cling even harder during college. They took the same classes freshman year, but even when their schedules diverged – hers for the interior design major she'd decided on and his for math classes – they made a point to meet every day even if they just studied in the same room. There was something comforting in knowing someone.

Towards the end of the fall semester of senior year, Dave was sitting in his room studying for his first final when there was a knock on his door. He frowned. His roommate would never knock, and Quinn had a key. And yet when he opened the door, it was Quinn's small blonde figure that launched itself at him, clinging to him and trying to talk through huge sobs.

"Shhh…It's alright, Q," Dave whispered into her hair, practically carrying her to his bed. He set her down on the edge, noticing for the first time that the slit of her dress was ripped almost all the way up the side and there was dirt on her hands and knees. "You're safe, now. I'm here."

"I'm…I'm sorry," She said, just sitting there when he brought over a washcloth. He cleaned her off the best he could, having to clean out the dirt two or three times before it was gone. He gave her an old t-shirt, turning around and giving her the privacy to change. She didn't care if he looked. She couldn't imagine ever feeling whole again after this.

"What happened to you?" He asked, sliding up on the bed beside her. She leaned into him and he wrapped an arm around her. She would have felt awkward if it was anyone but Dave. But he was her best friend – she hadn't even realized until then how close they'd become – and he knew everything about her.

"I…Craig asked me out," She said softly.

"The guy from your Advanced Design class?" She nodded against his shoulder.

"Y…yes," She said. "We...I mean…God. I'm a terrible person. I didn't mean to ch…cheat on you. But…He was so nice. And funny. And…Oh God. We went to a club and everything was great. And then he pulled me into the back ally and he was really drunk. He tried to…I managed to get away and then I…I walked here because I left my keys and purse back there…Can you forgive me?"

"We're fine," He said, stroking her hair gently. She took comfort in it, leaning closer in to him and wrapping her arms around him. She wasn't aware how much she needed to hear those words until they were spoken.

"I love you, Dave," She said. It was against the rules, but she couldn't care. He was the only person in the world she trusted, and what had started for convenience had lasted long past that point.

"I…I love you too, Quinn," He said after a long pause. She could hear the doubt in his voice, hear that he didn't mean the words – not the way she meant them, anyway – but she didn't care. He'd said them, and she knew he would never hurt her.

"Let's get married," It was impulsive, but she needed to hear that he would always be there for her. She didn't even recognize herself in this needy, clingy person. She'd worked so hard to be strong, and all it took was one scary experience to break her control.

"Married?" Dave asked. "You're upset. Sleep on it for a while. You don't need to make any rash decisions."

"It isn't rash. Let's get married this summer. After we graduate."

xxxx

He hears her speak, but the words are a jumble in his head. They sort themselves out eventually, but his concentration is gone. He's too focused on his hands, clinging to the sheets so tightly his nails are digging into his palms even though the material. They'll bleed, he thinks vaguely, but not as much as Quinn's feet from the broken glass. She doesn't deserve the pain of that. He wishes he could take it from her.

Then his gaze goes up. He always prays looking up, even though he's known since he was little that heaven, and by extension God, isn't necessarily up. But it's easier to pretend. He's good at pretending. The prayer is simple, asking for forgiveness, asking to turn back time. He doesn't know if the first is answered, but the second definitely isn't when he looks back and see's the wedding dress lying on the table.

"I can't fix this," He says, remembering the feel of lace under his fingers. And the softness under that lace. Softness that he doesn't want to feel. That he tried to pretend was firm and masculine. He hates himself even more.

xxxx

The day of the wedding dawned bright and perfect. Dave spent most of the morning recovering from the night before. Azimio had flown in from Los Angeles in time to take him out for a bachelors party, complete with strippers and more alcohol than could possibly be legal. Finn and Puck were also there, both of them still lived in Lima and Quinn insisted he could have just one groomsman when she'd asked Santana, Brittany and Mercedes to be her bridesmaids.

"You sure about this, man?" Azimio asked for the millionth time. They were all dressed, having downed an entire pot of coffee each and so much Gatorade Dave was worried he'd explode, and waiting for the cue to head out.

"Why not?" Dave asked. It was the same reply he'd given every other time the question was asked. Sometimes, he thought Azimio knew his secret. But surely if he'd known, he would have been disguised – never speak to him again. That was why Dave couldn't come out. He couldn't bear the look of abject horror on people's face. Besides, what guy would want a guy like him?

"No reason," Az said, shrugging. He walked over, straightening Dave's tie one last time. "Just want you to be happy, D."

"Quinn makes me happy." It wasn't a lie. He liked spending time with Quinn. Her bitchiness was a cover for her insecurities and despite how she acted, she never judged or condemned anyone easily. She was insanely gifted at manipulating people to see exactly what she wanted, but she would never go so far as to change who someone was. He could see from Azimio's expression that he wasn't sold. "She does, Z. She's…She probably saved my life senior year. I owe her everything."

It was true. He'd hated himself all of junior year for what he did to Kurt. By the start of senior year he was being eaten away with guilt, so convinced that he was so vile, no one could ever see good in him. Quinn had. Not at first, because all she wanted was someone to keep the other guy's away from her, but as they got to know each other he could see it in her eyes. She looked at him like he was someone special.

"We're ready for you, Mr. Karofsky," The wedding planner said, taking his arm and whispering last minute directions.

Aside from the brief moment when he thought Quinn was going to come to her senses and stand him up, the ceremony went by in a blur. There weren't many people there – both of their families and some college and high school friends. Quinn had done most of the decorating, still insisting on paying the wedding planner, and the place was beautiful. The reception pavilion afterwards was even more ornate. Pink flowers decorating everything, silver balloons dancing in the cool afternoon breeze, it was a dream wedding.

xxxx

"This isn't your fault," She says softly. They're the words she's wanted to say all morning. His hands bruised her. His words tore her to pieces. And yet she knows it's her fault. None of it would have happened if she wasn't so stupid.

"But I…" His voice is still hoarse, still broken. But there's the seedling of relief to be found in it now. It's no longer full of self loathing. There's something akin to hope. And she wants to take her words back. Tell him it was his fault, let him continue to believe the lie.

Because once she reveals the truth, he'll hate her. And she knows she won't survive that. She's told him so much in the past five years. He's supposed to be the person she uses to never open up again, and somehow he became someone she can't live without. She has to look away, just for a moment. Her eyes linger on the door. The memories wash over her.

xxxx

He posture was stiff walking her up to the room. She knew he'd never been comfortable with sex, and in five years he hadn't tried anything. For that she was grateful. After Puck and the baby incident, she'd sworn she wouldn't have sex until she was married. She wasn't going to let some guy do to her body what Puck had. Not a chance. But now she was ready. She'd married her best friend, and would trust him with everything.

"Quinn…" He turned around to face her. She smiled, pulling out the bottle of wine she'd taken from the reception. "I don't think…"

"Hush," She said, pouring him a glass. "To lighten the mood." She filled his with substantially more than her cup and handed it to him. He drank it quickly, despite his obvious reluctance. She filled it again and handed it back. She still hadn't finished his first.

"Quinn…"

"Relax, David," She said. "It's the cheap stuff. It's just enough to get a buzz, don't worry." She gives him her most charming smile and he relents again. She loses count of how many glasses she gives him, but he drinks each one. When she finishes her second, he surprises her by closing the distance between them and kissing her.

It isn't their first kiss – they had to keep up appearances and it would have alerted suspicion if they weren't seen making out in high school – but there was something different about it. It was sloppy and rough, but she wasn't one to back down from a challenge. She wrapped her arms around his neck, hitching one leg up and over his hip and grinding against him.

When he growls, dipping his head down and biting along her collarbone, she throws her head back and moans. This is nothing like Puck. Puck was experienced, controlled. Dave wasn't. He was erratic, his hands insistent on her back, nails digging into her skin through the dress. She tried to push him away, but he wouldn't move. She undid the clasp and the zipper while he pushed her back towards the bed. She managed to get out of the dress, tossing it across the room.

"Dave…" She pushed him gently, trying to get him to ease up. His fingers were digging into her hips, crushing her. He didn't stop, instead biting her lip and drawing blood. "Please…Dave…"

Somewhere along the line his shirt and pants were gone. His growing erection was obvious in his boxers. At her growing insistence, hands pushing on her chest, he finally broke away, turning and slamming a fist onto the table. The wine bottle perched on it went flying, shattering on the floor and spilling it's remaining contents.

"What do you want, Quinn?" He asked, voice almost a shout. "Isn't this what you want? God. You're such a fucking bitch sometimes!" His hand came from nowhere, connecting soundly with her face. She staggered backwards, landing on the bed. She scrambled backwards when he launched himself at her, covering the distance quickly.

"Just stop, David," She said, trying to curl into herself. He was stronger than her, though, and pulled her by her foot. She stopped fighting then, begging him to stop to no avail. He either didn't hear her or ignored her.

It wasn't sweet and gentle, like she imagined. It wasn't even passionate and full of fire. It was rough and painful and _angry_. It was hate in his eyes and venom in his voice when he yanked her hair so hard she thought it would fall out. He called her slut and bitch while pounding into her, hands holding her so tightly on her ribs she wondered if he would break something. He lasted only one round before falling heavily onto the bed beside her.

xxxx

"What do you mean?" He asks finally, memories of her lying below him, face contorting with pain and fear, overwhelming him. He knows it's his fault. He hurt her. His hands held her down, covering her mouth, clenching around her throat so hard he thought he would kill her.

"I made you…I made you drink," She says, her voice still lacking any sarcasm or sting.

"You couldn't make me," He says. "I knew better. My dad…I know better." And he does. He knows what alcohol does to him. It bruises angels and breaks them into pieces. It destroys a friendship that was the only thing holding him together. He wishes he could go back and push the glass away, just not take that first sip.

For the first time, she stands up, exposed before him. There's no shame in her as she approaches the bed, sliding up it slowly. Her face contorts in pain when she jars her bruises, but she makes it up to him. She leans against him, positions his arms so they're wrapped around her limply. He doesn't have the strength to push her away. He doesn't want to, either. The comfortable rise and fall of her breath with his calms him.

"Where do we go from here?" She whispers the words as if she's afraid of the answer. He doesn't know what to say. He has no answers for her. He has no words of assurance to give. He can't promise everything will be alright. He can't say he'll protect her when he's the one who broke her.

He knows how they got here, but he doesn't know how they can leave it. Their wounds, physical and emotional are fading to dull aches that will stay with them for weeks. They deceived themselves for years, but it took just one night to bring everything crashing down around them. Sitting in the silence, he tries to forget.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>With Sam and Finn unavailable, Quinn takes a note from Santana's book and uses Karofsky for popularity. Karofsky is happy to get a believable beard, especially one who conveniently doesn't want sex or much physical affection until marriage. Things go farther than either of them realize, and the relationship continues past highschool.

They don't love each other, but the benefits they enjoyed in high school continue in the real world and they have become good friends. They end up getting married. On their wedding night, Quinn still hasn't had sex since Puck, and Karofsky has to get drunk to even get it up. Unfortunately, he's an angry drunk, and he blames the fact that he is stuck in a loveless marriage on Quinn. He is very rough with her, and it can be dub or non-con. When they wake up the next morning, they have to deal with the reality of their situation, especially considering what Karofsky has done.


End file.
